


baby steps

by Kayama



Series: baby steps [1]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayama/pseuds/Kayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you need to take baby steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, all mistakes are mine. Mae culpa.

There were times when Constable Dwayne Meyers thought his Chief had a severe death wish. If it wasn't the fact that he was walking around in the Caribbean wearing a woollen suit, complete with tie? Then it were his arguments with detective sergeant Camille Borday. 

"It's called like that on /all/ the maps," Richard Poole smugly informed her. 

"Not on my maps," Camille crossed her arms and gave him a look.

"Well, they're in French," Poole huffed, "they don't count." 

Camille made a frustrated noise and growled at her boss. 

Truth to be told, Dwayne had no idea what they were arguing about this time. It had been a year since they had both been stationed here and he suspected they had grown accustomed to the, often pointless, arguments. 

Dwayne would even go so far as to say one would annoy the other /just/ to start an argument. 

"What's going on?" Fidel, their youngest team-member slides up to his co-workers desk. He cast a glance into the direction of the bickering pair. Where it had once been a worried look, it was now a bemused one.

Dwayne shrugged and gave him a 'I dunno' look. Fidel shuffles to his desk and starts to pull out some books. 

"Argh! You are so Eengleesh!"

That one never got old. Fidel grins down into his book as he waits for the traditional reply. 

"Well yes. I'm surprised you with all your skills of observation missed the fact that I am, indeed, British. Also known as English. I'm taking that as a compliment, thank you, Camille," 

A smug Richard Poole and eve more frustrated Camille Borday. 

"Who walks around in a woollen suit, complete with tie and Italian leather loafers!"

Fidel quickly folds his leather clad feet under the chair and ducks deeper into the books.

"At least I look like an authoritative police officer and not a tourist on vacation," he shoots back. He thinks about reminding her just who is in charge here.

Richard /is/ the chief of the entire St. Marie police force!

All three members of them. 

Dwayne ponders bringing out the score card. This was starting to turn vicious. Though in the end he knows who who's in charge when. 

Camille would do that snap-point thing with her fingers and even chief ran when she did that. 

Or he would give /that/ look with those piercing green eyes and use /that/ tone of voice. And they all would follow his lead and commands. 

"Oh yeah! At least I'm comfortable in my 'uniform'," and she used her fingers to make quotation marks. "What are you trying to hide behind that suit, Richard?"

This time both Dwayne and Fidel glanced at the chief. Truth to be told, they had all suspected it to be some sort of armor. They just couldn't figure out the why. 

Poole looks distinctly uncomfortable. If it's because Camille figured out the suit /is/ indeed an armour or because of the ridiculous heat is anyone's guess.

"That's preposterous!" He shoots back maybe a little too vehement.

"Is there something going on I should know about?" The overly smooth voice of Selwyn Patterson suddenly interrupts any further argument. 

The reaction of the team is instantaneously. Dwayne and Fidel quickly sit upright. Poole looks ready and all but does stand at attention. And so doe Camille in her own way. 

"Ah, no sir. Ah, Camille and I were uh, just having a discussion," Richard hastens to explain. 

Damn that man and his dark ninja ways! How the commissioner, a man of considerable bulk and posture, always manages to sneak up on them is a complete mystery to the whole St. Marie police force.

"I see," the commissioner nods slowly. The expression on his face is one of fond bemusement. "That means there is a low crime rate. No... Murders? Robberies?"

Poole nods before shaking his head, confusing himself. "No sir, there is nothing going on at the moment."

Which is, the commissioner can't help but think, exactly the problem here. While Dwayne doesn't mind long down times and Fidel always finds something productive to do? His two senior officers are bored out of their genius minds.  
They need cases to work on and keep them busy. They are probably wishing for a robbery or a fraud case or drug bust. Hopefully not a murder because that would be taking things too far. 

"Very well team. Don't let me keep you from your.... very important argument." And with that he turns and strolls casually out the station. 

And for once Richard didn't mind the interruption so much as is threw off the 'discussion' he didn't so much want to have.Grabbing his briefcase he makes an escape for it. "I'm going out! I'll be back later," and he quickly ducks out the door. 

Camille is even quicker. Slinging her purse - sarcastically called the treasure chest by Richard - over her head and follows him.

"What are you doing?" Richard squeaks as she slides up beside him. 

"Going for a walk," she happily replies.

"And that just so happens to be in the direction /I'm/ going?"

"Ah Oui, look at that. Seems so."

Fidel and Dwayne clink their coffee mugs together in a mock toast as they watch the bickering pair vanish out of sight. 

"When do you think he'll figure it out?" Fidel wonders. 

"Hopefully soon or someone is gonna lock them in a room together." 

For an amazingly brilliant detective? Richard Poole could be amazingly brilliantly unobservant about some things.


	2. chapter 2

She follows him, of all places, to the beach. He wanted to go to Cathrine's and get himself a nice cup of tea. It really was just about the /only/ place on this entire blasted island where he /could/ get a descent cup of tea. 

But Cathrine was Camille's Mum and she would probably withold the milk for his tea and give him those dagger looks at him for daring to hurt her 'mon cherrie'. 

Those French....

So he went to the only place he thought they'd look for him. The beach. It was the last spot a man who can't stand the sun and the sand would go. Right?

Wrong.

He should have known she'd find him. She /is/ the best detective on the St. Marie police-force after all. After him. Of course. And for some reason he didn't /really/ mind her finding him. He just had to keep his front off. 

Stuffy, moping, grumpy Englishman. It was who he was comfortable in being. Just like wearing the woollen suit and tie in the Caribbean heat was comfortable to him. Well not... comfortable physically – Christ! It was so /hot/ all the time! - but the suit was one of his many walls. 

No one was going to hurt him or mock him here as they had done in Croydon. Even though he was slowly, very slowly, starting to see that St. Marie wasn't Croydon. They accepted him here, for some strange reason, even with all his quirks and habits and ticks. 

“Richaaard,” Camille coaxed in that tone of voice she used often when dealing with her boss. She stood at the edge of the ocean, shoes in hand, the water lapping over her feet. “Come on. There's no one around, who'll see? Just take off your shoes and step in. We can go for a stroll.” She gave him a hopeful look. 

“No thank you,” Richard said firmly, skipping backward when the water threatened to get too close to his leather shoes. He was going to have to clean and polish them /again/ when he got home. Seemed to become a day job. 

“The last time I took your advice on that, I stepped into a sea-urchin. I just know they're all in there, lurking,” his eyes narrow as he points at the ocean. “Waiting for me to step into the water and attack.” 

She sighed. He made it sound as if the whole ocean was littered with sea-urchin and other 'animals with creepy eyes', who were all out to attack him. She spread her arms wide to indicate her surrounding. “There's nothing here, Richard. Don't you think I would have stepped into one by now?”

He huffed. “They would know better than to bite you, Camille,” he pointed out logically.

She planted her hands on her hips, titled her head and gave him a look which made it all to clear to him he'd said /something/ wrong again. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you saying my feet stink?!”

Why did she always do that? It just... baffled him to no end. He would never, ever, for as long as he lived understand women. Let alone the one woman he was so fond of but always seemed to piss off. Camille Borday.

“I did not say that!” He shoots back irritated. 

Now she did that chin titling thing again, those dark eyes shooting fire. He could see why most people, mostly criminals as they got the look, were afraid of her. “Then what did you mean? Huh?”

He didn't really know what he meant. Well, he had meant that even sea-urchin wouldn't dare to hurt Camille Borday, but that sounded lame to him now. Ugh. He just was so /awkward!/ “Look, either way, I'm not coming into the water and that's that.”

This time she looks shrewdly at him. “You're afraid of the water aren't you? That's why you cling onto the edge of 'Roast Beef' that one time we went rowing.” 

Another huff. “I'm not afraid of water,” he assures her. “It's just inappropriate for the head of the police force to be seen swanning about in the...” he waves at the ocean. “water, in an inappropriate outfit.”

This time she huffed, looking down at her short and tank top. Which really set off her skin-tone and accented those long long legs he most certainly hadn't been looking at. “Are you saying I dress wrong?” 

“Christ! Will you stop that? I didn't say that!” He argued back, by now automatically. This is how most of their argument went. The people of St. Marie didn't even look up surprised when the pair passed, bickering their way to a new case. 

“Dwayne and Fidel walk around in their shorts and T's,” she pointed out, hands still on hips. She holds up one when she sees him taking a breath for a counter attack. “We saw commissioner Patterson in a robe at the spa, and he looked very comfortable with it!” 

A snort this time as he crosses his arms to prevent himself from wiping his brow. So. Damn. Hot! “That was during his free time,” he points out in his 'so there' voice. 

The smug look on her face tells him he just made a grave error. He just can't figure out what it was he said. This time she crosses her arms and smiles oh so sweetly it nearly makes him want to run for the hills. And St. Marie had a lot of hills to run to. He could hide forever. 

“It's after hours, Richard. It's /your/ free time now. So take off those shoes and come walk with me!” She does that snap-point thing with her fingers. “Or I'm coming over there and taking them off for you.” 

She would do so too. He knows she would. 

“Bloody hell... Fine! If that will get you to shut up!” He pulls off his jacket to lay down on the tree-trunk on the beach, lets he gets his pants dirty or, heaven forbid, sand everywhere. Then he sits down and takes off his shoes. 

Socks get neatly folded to the point she just wants run up to him, take them way and throw them in the sea! Why can't he just stuff them in his shoes like everyone else? He was just so... so... /Richard!/ 

And if she was honest? She probably wouldn't like him any other way. 

Finally he strolls up to her, pants of his legs rolled up, still wearing that damn tie. She was going to work on that next. One baby step at the time. She watches as he tentatively steps into the warm Caribbean ocean. It really was like observing a skittish animal who expected to get attack at any moment now. 

After a moment he visibly relaxed as they stood there with their feet in the ocean. The sun dipping lower, almost vanishing behind the horizon. And she thinks she actually sees him wiggle his toes in the sand for a moment. 

“There,” he finally huffs, Richard Poole needs something to huff and complain about after all. “Happy now?”

She smiles at him. “Yep. Je suis extatique.”

He growls. “English please!”

Camille just chuckles. “Now was that so bad then?”

No, it wasn't really, he thinks. But what comes out of his mouth is. “Terrible. Let's not do this again.” But he doesn't move at all to put words into action. 

She smiles and knows she's managed to take one baby step today. The rest will follow.


End file.
